


American Spoon, Russian Spoon

by gymwrites



Category: Gymnastics RPF
Genre: F/F, raistafina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-09 23:25:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12286413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gymwrites/pseuds/gymwrites
Summary: Aly Raisman attempts to explain 'big spoon, little spoon' to Aliya Mustafina.





	American Spoon, Russian Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> [Author’s note: This was a one-shot fluff request from an anon ages ago. Happy weekend! Kai]

“There’s actually a special name for what we’re doing right now.”

Aliya lifts her eyebrows, even though she knows Aly can’t see her. “What we are doing?”

“Spooning.”

The Russian wrinkles her nose at the strange, outlandish phrase. She shifts her body a little bit, enjoying the feeling of being snuggled up against her fiercest and most competitive rival. But it’s not quite enough. Enclosing her fingers around the other girl’s hand, she gently tugs on it to signal that she needs her closer still. 

Aly laughs lightly, before obliging. “If I hold you any tighter, you won’t be able to breathe.”

“I always not breathing with you.”

A gentle kiss at the base of her neck makes Aliya shiver, even as she feels the American smile against her skin.

“You are super corny,” Aly observes.

“Corns and spoons. You Americans speak of love like eating dinner. This is not the Russian way.”

“And by ‘not the Russian way’, you mean not particularly classy.”

Aliya smiles inwardly, letting the astute conclusion speak for itself. Sure enough, a laugh, and a quick, indignant squeeze follows. 

“To be fair, we don’t mean them literally.” 

“Spoon,  _shevyrka_  in Russia mean ‘throwing food into mouth’. To saying this to someone in bed…” Aliya trails off, the mere thought causing her to break into a highly amused grin.

Intrigued, Aly props herself up on one elbow and rests her chin on Aliya’s shoulder. “So what  _does_  a Russian say to someone they’re in bed with? I mean,” and Aly smiles wickedly, “apart from all the colorful four-letter English words you’ve started using when - you know.”

A furious blush heats Aliya’s cheeks. Luckily for Aly, Aliya is locked fairly tight in her arms, so the Russian can’t exactly land a well-placed slap in reprimand. She has to settle for a dramatic sigh, the one she uses when she knows Aly is deliberately stirring, but in a way that causes her to love the girl even more. “We are speaking of different thing. It is difficult to translate what we say about  _romantika_ , about being close. We using more things like  _zizn_ ,  _ogon_ ,  _krov_. Things with life, and fire, and blood.” To underscore her point, Aliya brings Aly’s hand up, turns it over and kisses the pulse beating beneath her wrist. 

“Ah.” And that’s all Aly can utter for a few moments, what with the small patch of skin where Aliya’s lips were pressed still burning. Eventually, she manages to get out, “But I promise, spooning can be romantic too.”

“Explain.”

Aly frowns in thought. “Well… right now, I’m the big spoon. And you’re the little spoon.”

“Why I am little one?”

“It has to do with your position in bed. See - “

“If I am better in bed, this make me bigger spoon, no?” 

The unconcealed challenge in Aliya’s familiar line of teasing makes Aly clear her throat in indignation. “First of all, we both agreed to disagree over who the real bed champion is. Although after what happened last time, there is  _clearly_  a winner - she’s just too nice to remind you of it.” Before Aliya can voice a rebuttal, Aly hurries on, a grin spreading on her face, “And second of all, spooning has nothing to do with that. The big spoon is just the person who’s doing the holding from behind.”

A thoughtful silence hangs in the air of an intimate universe that counts among its only inhabitants two Olympic gymnasts who are, for all intents and purposes, quite mad about each other.

“And?” Aliya’s expectant tone pierces the quiet.

Puzzled, Aly replies, “And what?”

“I wait for part where you making spoons sound romantic.”

“Oh. Right.” Aly draws her brows together, pondering how to approach this. She’s suddenly struck by the fact that there really isn’t anything particularly poetic about the fact that you can place two spoons side by side together. “I guess you’ll be waiting for awhile,” she says sheepishly.

Aliya swivels her body around to gaze directly into the American’s deep brown eyes. The smallest hint of laughter plays on her slightly upturned lips, but the rest of her expression turns serious. “Do not make me wait long, Raisman,” she murmurs, her voice suddenly thick with wanting. 

Aly swallows and nods. “Good thing spooning doesn’t have to  _sound_  romantic to be romantic.” She starts running a hand down Aliya’s side, lingering on the delicate curve of her hip, then wandering upward to graze the barest edge of her breast. “Actually, I read once there’s a few different ways to spoon that makes it more - ” 

She gets cut off by impatient lips claiming her own. “Big spoon must be person who using the most words,” Aliya observes after pulling back from the sudden kiss. A satisfied look settles on her face as she watches Aly catch her breath.

Despite the fire now blazing through her every nerve ending, Aly chuckles out loud. “Aliya. That’s not how it works.”

The only response she gets is a firm redirection of her hand southwards, and a breathless command for her to do more of the showing, rather than the telling. 


End file.
